Pointing me right, black letters on white,
Fashioned like an ‘X’ above the crossing roads of life,
Hung from a back road sign post read,
‘This Way to the Gates of Glory.’
Opposed by a quarrelsome arrow aiming left,
Ivory words towards a charcoal cleft,
Offered a dilemma proposing that I might
Exit ‘This Way to Eternal Night.’
Now a bunny bounding into my plight,
His tail of cotton a puff-ball sight,
Springing from Sunday School translation
Hopped along the Highway of Revelations.
Where flowers a-bloom beneath his paws,
Resembling the poppy fields of Oz,
Flung wild seeds at a tickling breeze
Beneath bountiful skies above.
Then a serpent blackly slithered,
Between uncertain feet,
Flicked twice his tongue to set me straight
On the path to twilight’s deep.
Cast against the absence,
Stars stand out aglow.
Like frozen flakes of dreams conceived
On cosmic winds to blow;
Into a perfect order by an accidental wind
Spinning through eternal space to come around again.
No decision moved me to rise.
I crossed my legs and closed my eyes.
In a vision I could see,
Clear as if on eagle wings,
An ancient grove of thoughtful trees
Whose roots bind them to darkness
As they claim the sky in canopies.
Around these living towers to the crossroads where I sat,
Sprawling in a lazy roll, like some great, contented cat,
Lay a land I had forgotten, whose soil was rich and moist,
My youth had won its freedom here, in the fertile fields of choice.
Renewed, I arose.
Refreshed, I chose.
Looked each way once
In quick review,
Then stepped between the two.